Earl Wolf ended so, and stood waiting on the King’s answer. The King, that had harkened to all this with clouded brow and downward look, and with hands pressed open, palms downward, on the board before him, lifted his face now and gazed steadily in the Earl’s face. “Whet me or let me,” he said: “the harm is done. Much could I forbear and much treat on with a man of mine own blood, and hard it must go with me now to say nay to this. Yet so it must be. The man that hath once drawn sword against me, with him I will make no atonement. It must now be tried out whether of us twain must be King in Upsala.”
There was that in the King’s face, and in the hard and chilling command that was in his voice, that took all heart out of the Earl for further speech. For a minute he stood looking on the King: then he turned his gaze right and left about the shadowy hall, meeting but looks that were borrowed from the King’s, grim and set; save only that old man Thorgnyr, whose countenance none might read: Helgi and Thorir and Thorgisl with sneering looks and the swagger of court bravery: and last, the Queen’s lovely face with eyes dark and doubtful and with nostrils dilated a little, like some fierce and graceful beast’s at the scent of blood.
“Wilt thou stay with me, Earl, or go back to him?” said the King.
“Is it in my choice, Lord?”
“It is in thy choice,” said the King. “And if thou choosest to go, I will send thee with safe conduct. For like enow the ways will be little safe for one faring southward from Upsala, sith I have bid out a war-gathering with an arrow-bidding. And thou art not a man unknown to folk, nor is thy kindred unknown and ties of friendship.”
“This will ever be said of you, Lord,” said Earl Wolf then, “that you are of all kings the most openhanded and the most high-minded. But that you are too hard-hearted and stubborn of bent, it hath been seen tonight. And this may be the beginning of woe to many.”
Earl Wolf took leave of the King now and rode south again, heavy of heart, to Styrbiorn his foster-son. But in Upsala was all gotten ready for battle. By then were the stakes stuck in the fairway below Sigtun, and weapons and war-gear dealt out among the bonders, and the fighting men marshalled under their captains and lords so as each man should know his place and what to do when the time should come. But with such unlooked-for sudden speed had Styrbiorn fared north from Denmark, that the King wanted yet nigh the third part of his host he had looked to muster, and hour by hour from the south came men with tidings of Styrbiorn’s approach. And it was clear now that the King must fight with that force he had, for little likelihood there was that he should be able to hold off the battle long time enough for all his folk to gather under his banners.
In all this making ready had the King chiefest part, and men marked in what unwearying way he wrought, yet like a man that is without gladness in his task and without thought for the morrow; and he fared through the army and took counsel and issued his commands as a smith might smithy or a digger delve a ditch, so that men thought the heart was gone from him, and but his strength and wisdom only and his iron purpose yet living in him and ruling these things.
Sigrid the Queen came to Thorgnyr and said, “Thou mayst say this is not women’s work, but ’tis this now lieth us on hand, to hold the realm against Styrbiorn until our full host be gathered. And as things stand now, if he should avail to bring his host upon us and force the King to battle ere he be ready, like enough we were all shent.”
“That is true,” said Thorgnyr.
“Hast thou thought on this,” said the Queen: “to gather together all the beasts of draught, both horses and oxen, that you may, and bind pikes and bills upon them so as they shall stick forth from the beasts, and let thrall-folk and ill-doers be driven before you to drive on the beasts against Styrbiorn and his folk? That should fetch him mickle man-spill in the first brunt, and small loss to us, and should even the odds somewhat. Or what thinkest thou?”
“Some would think it an ill deed,” said Thorgnyr.
“If thou deemest hopefully of it,” said she, “I would have thee lay it before the King as thine own rede. He will not take aught from me. Moreover, I would not that he should know that ’twas I thought on’t.”
The same hour Thorgnyr laid this before the King. The King listened without changing countenance and was silent awhile, as if weighing the matter. Then his look darkened and he said, “Many will blame me for this and say ’tis a poor game to play. But is it not all a poor game, Thorgnyr, that I have set mine hand to: to bear war against myself? Yet will I play it out, and leave naught untried: no, not this nor a
